


Give and Take

by Iithril



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:20:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28318104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iithril/pseuds/Iithril
Summary: Frank encounters the Devil of Hell's Kitchen on Christmas Eve and is given a present. Now he has to think of something to give back.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 18
Kudos: 83
Collections: Daredevil Bingo





	Give and Take

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Shhhhhh](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22372021) by [DichotomyStudios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DichotomyStudios/pseuds/DichotomyStudios). 



> Inspired by [DichotomyStudios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DichotomyStudios)' amazing art! It feels quite nostalgic since it was the very first work in the Fratt Week collection I read and admired, and I wanted to give back. I humbly hope you'll appreciate!
> 
> It fits my Daredevil Bingo's prompt _mistletoe_.
> 
> Many thanks and my endless gratitude to my beta for this story, [Arboreal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arboreal). You're the best, and I hope you're having wonderful holidays!

It was almost the end of the year, and Frank wasn't sure he liked the prospect of spending the holidays alone, fighting crime, while the whole city was buzzing with activity, even more so than usual. Everyone was about finding gifts, finding clothes to wear for their big dinner with family or friends, finding their acquaintances that would be alone to invite them, and yeah – Frank didn't want to be invited.

He had been, of course. David, with the children cheering at the prospect and begging him to come. Curt, who had offered to share a drink and a cake one evening, to reminisce about the good and bad things. Hell, even Madani had sent him a text, saying he could come to her place if he had nowhere to go – the holiday spirit made her soft.

But he didn't want to go anywhere. As much as he appreciated the offers, he knew that crime didn't stop on Christmas night, far from it. And there were still too many memories floating around – carousels and gunshots – for him to celebrate peacefully. What he wanted was to be alone, preferably perched on a roof, comfortably snuggled into his big parka, a beanie covering his ears, two pairs of socks for his toes, and the familiar weight of a gun in his hands while he waited for the gang he had tracked down to arrive upon their meeting location.

Yeah. Better off like this.

Snow was covering the city, bringing the temperatures low but the holiday spirits high. A layer of ice and snow coated the streets and the roofs and made everything quite slippery and wet – he had brought a small piece of tarpaulin to sit on, but he was still freezing his ass off. At least he had his vacuum flask with him; the strong smell of coffee warmed him up a bit.

The wait was long, he thought to himself as he adjusted his position. Not that he wasn't used to long waits, but the cold was making his muscles stiff and his fingers uncooperative, and he started to doubt the gang he was watching would gather. Maybe their boss had decided to let them have their night, huh?

He was so focused on his watch that it took him a second to register the presence next to him, and another excruciating one to identify who it was before he drew his gun on them, his finger fighting against the trigger.

"Evening, Frank."

"What are you doing here, Red?" Frank grumbled, annoyed that the sneaky bastard had managed to surprise him, and even more annoyed that he _knew_ Frank's heartbeat had sped up, and that he had managed to surprise him.

"I could ask you the same question. Isn't it Christmas Eve?"

Red shifted next to him, and Frank noticed a dark shape at the vigilante's side – a bag?

"Crime doesn't stop on Christmas," Frank answered, struggling to get his heartbeat under control.

"It sure doesn't."

Red was dressed in his fucking pyjamas again, hands strapped into boxing bands, the tip of his fingers blueish in the dim light.

"What're you up to, Red?"

If he was to be honest with himself, Frank was a bit intrigued by the big bag Red had brought with him – it was a bag indeed, his eyes were sure of it now.

"Ah, well, I... volunteered to help children. Orphans, you know. Who don't have families to buy them presents."

His voice was low and his tone unsure, as if he was embarrassed to tell Frank about it. Was he afraid Frank would shame him for not punching bad guys on Christmas night? Knowing the man, he likely was shaming himself for not punching bad guys. The Devil liked to blame himself for never doing enough.

"You had to go with the full..." Frank vaguely gestured at him, "Daredevil get-up ?"

"I spent the day with Foggy and Karen distributing gifts. Now that it's dark, it didn't sound like a good idea to wander around dressed up as a blind lawyer with a full bag on my back. First of all, it's not a very impressive Santa. Second, crime doesn't stop on Christmas, and I can't be seen punching people with a sack."

That would be an interesting sight to witness, Frank laughed inwardly. He had fought with less conventional objects, but the idea of Red dressed up in his lawyer suit, swinging around his bag full of presents to repel thugs? He almost wanted to see it, now.

Frank wanted to add something, but he spotted movement two rooftops away, where the gang he was supposed to take down had agreed to meet up, so he turned his attention to that and whispered for Red, "Got work to do." No way he was getting distracted by the man after four hours of waiting in the cold, snow piling up on his beanie and snowflakes melting in his beard. Frank wanted the mission done.

Surprisingly, Red didn't say anything in return. Frank was busy scanning the area, counting people – seven, and an eighth had just arrived – but he heard a ruffling sound, a soft thump next to him, and then, "No killing on Christmas, Frank!"

He looked next to him for a split second, ready to call for Red to stay, ready to argue with him that he wasn't flooding the hospital with people that didn't deserve it, that nurses deserved a calmer night too and that he was doing what he wanted anyway, thank you very much, but all words left him.

Red was already on another rooftop, and Frank could see his bag better now. He hadn't noticed, but the bag was bright red, _just like Santa_ 's _,_ and with his vigilante initials on it, two white D overlapping a bit. He was facing Frank, shushing him, and Frank could swear it was a smirk on his face, before he vanished in the shadows again.

Well, maybe, as a gift, he could aim for the kneecaps tonight. Target practice, huh? That could do. Not that he wanted to please Red, far from it. But it was Christmas, after all, and Frank wasn't sentimental, but the Devil of Hell's Kitchen was out there giving gifts to orphans with a red sack, so it felt somehow out of place to shoot people in the head. Christmas truce, and all.

Frank managed to take down the thugs quite easily – they weren't expecting anyone to interrupt their little reunion, and certainly not the Punisher. The effort warmed him up nicely, brought sensation back to his legs and arms, and he eagerly climbed to his waiting spot to gather his gear and head home. With a little luck, he'd still have a beer in the fridge, and he was convinced his neighbour had left a slice of cake for him – since he had fixed their sink drain, they insisted on returning the favour one way or another. Any other day, he would have objected against it, but tonight, cake sounded enticing.

As he was packing his gear, folding the piece of tarpaulin, his eyes landed on a small package wrapped up in brown paper. Intrigued, he picked it up, dusted the snow off and tried to remember– _oh_. That was the thump sound he had heard right before Red took off.

A fucking Christmas present.

Frank was glad he was alone, because his heartbeat definitely didn't speed up, and if his ears were a bit red, it was because of the cold. He put the present in his backpack, annoyed at himself for not having thought of a present to give Red. He didn't expect the man to give him something! Hell, they'd been fighting together a couple of times, and their paths had crossed, but a present? Who had the audacity to give a present to _the Punisher_?

It was probably because of Catholic charity. Nothing personal. He was on the same scale as orphans, in a way.

Still, Frank had to admit he wanted to know what was in the package. He hurried back to his place, grabbed the plate that was waiting for him in front of the door before unlocking it and sliding in. He undressed quickly, happy for once that the walls' insulation was thin – all the noises filtered through, but the heat as well, and since his place was devoid of a heater, it helped keep the temperature warm enough for him to sport a jacket only, leaving his parka on the hanger.

He grabbed the single beer in the fridge and popped it open with a satisfied sigh, before pulling a chair to him and sitting, facing the package that was waiting for him on the table.

He took a sip, side-eyeing the present as if it was going to jump at his throat at any moment. There were a lot of implications coming with it, and with whatever was inside. It also meant that Frank had to gift something back – he was polite enough to know he needed to return gifts, even if they were given as an act of charity. He didn't want to owe anything to Red, let alone a Christmas present.

_Fuck this_. He put the beer down and started to unwrap the package, ripping the paper. There was a cardboard box, covered with little holes following a pattern, seemingly made with the tip of a pen or a knife. Braille, then.

Frank didn't know much about Braille, but he had learnt the alphabet back when he had enrolled – couldn't hurt, may help. He was a bit rusty, so he copied the dots onto a piece of paper and worked on each letter until he figured out the sentence, completing the missing parts with logic.

_Merry Christmas, may they keep you warm. DD._

Had Red taken the time to write this? Was it a generic message, or was it just for him?

Anticipation building up, Frank worked his way to cut all the tape that held the box closed. Just like a treasure chest, he gently opened it and took out what was inside to examine it with proper lighting.

It was gloves. Tactical gloves – leather, palm and finger patterns, knuckle protection. Waterproof as well. They smelled like new, and Frank eased the velcro at the wrist to slide his hand into it. It was a very considerate gift, coming from someone that had been near him long enough to notice he didn't wear gloves – he had had fingerless ones, but he had lost them when he had been forced to change safe houses.

They fit. They fit perfectly, leaving enough room for him to wiggle his fingers or close his hands into a fist, yet without sliding off his hands or forming wrinkles. They were black, of course – Daredevil's pyjamas shared that with the Punisher's vest. The inside was padded on the palm, soft and warm, and he could see how much nicer long waits in the cold were going to be from now on.

Still, the fact they fit was astonishing to Frank. It was always nightmarish to find something that suited his hands, simply because they had been through a lot, and he wanted the best for them. Wearing tactical gear was a way of enhancing his performance and ensuring his safety, not jeopardising it. He couldn't exactly go shopping for it, so the fact that Red had thought of it and had gone through the ordeal of finding suitable measurements was... weird. Heartwarming, in a bizarre way. It exceeded the consideration of convenience that was supposed to be devoted to the gift, and it far surpassed charity.

He couldn't believe they fit. How did Red do that? How did he get Frank's measurements?

Too many questions, not enough answers. Frank cast a look at his watch – 3 a.m., time to sleep for a bit. He ate his slice of cake with a plastic spoon and emptied his beer with a sigh, before grabbing his blanket and crashing on his couch. The fabric of the blanket was a bit itchy, since it originally was a moving blanket, not quite made to cover skin, but he fell asleep pretty fast anyway, his snoring lost in the howls of the wind outside.

~°~

When he woke up, the snow had stopped falling, and the apartment had a nice warmth – everyone around him had switched on their heaters for Christmas night, certainly for this morning as well.

It was also before noon, which meant Frank still had time to go out and find something to gift Red in return and give it to him without being impolite. He had thought about it before falling asleep, thoughts swirling in his head until he had found something he could give Red that wouldn't give a wrong impression. He had never been good at gifting things – he didn't have this talent for finding the perfect gift like Maria had. She'd always found the best things to give to the kids, their smiles reaching their ears when they'd found the presents and opened them eagerly, jumping in Frank's arms with excited giggles and heartfelt thanks.

He had missed Christmas once because of a mission, and he'd promised never again if he had anything to say about it. He had had to go to great lengths sometimes, but it had never mattered as soon as he pushed the door of their home open, the inevitable Christmas tree waiting for him, the cries of joy and the hugs that would take his breath away.

For now, it was about finding a gift for Red. The man had lost his family too, according to the little Frank had read about him, and he was the type to work right through Christmas, if only to push the memories away and keep the momentum going. That was what Frank was doing, and Red wasn't that different from him in that regard.

Frank suited up, strapped a knife at his belt and put a gun in his parka, for precaution, checked for his phone and his wallet, and after hesitating for a second, he put the gloves on. Part of him _really_ wanted to test them out, and that would be proof he had liked the gift, if Red could guess he was wearing them. He'd tell him if necessary.

He opened the door of his apartment, smiled as he found another plate on his doorstep and took a second to bring it inside, adding to his mental list that he needed to find a little something for his neighbours. He suppressed an involuntary gasp at the frigid temperature when he arrived in the street – snow had stopped falling, but there was a treacherous cold draught and the pavement was slippery.

He first went to buy a coffee and enquired about local businesses that would be open on the 25th, in which he could find what he was searching for. The waitress gave him three names to try, wrote the addresses down when he asked, and gave him an additional cup of fuming hot coffee to brave the cold. He thanked her copiously, left a generous tip and headed out in the cold again.

He found his gift at the second store he tried. The couple owning the shop had dark circles under their eyes and bed hair, but they still gave him a lot of advice on what to pick. He hoped he made the right choice; not that there could be a wrong one, but he didn't want to mess it up.

_Hang on a second_.

He didn't want to mess it up? It was just a thank you gift for Red. Nothing fancy. Where was all this apprehension coming from, huh? He'd thought he was over this type of commotion, but he discovered his heart said otherwise when he headed to Red's office. With just a little luck, his associate wouldn't be there, because he was a reasonable person and wouldn't want to be a martyr. And Karen... She wasn't a reasonable person, but she wouldn't be here.

He remembered the location surprisingly well, and wasn't surprised to see the main entrance to the building wasn't even closed nor required to call a resident. He had the element of surprise on his side, he smiled to himself, slowly climbing up the stairs and following the pieces of paper that had been stuck on the walls to show the way. When he reached the door, he stilled, listening for sounds coming from the inside. There was someone, for sure; Frank could hear footsteps, and chances were high it _was_ Red given the muffled computer voice that was talking.

Frank took a second to brush snow away from his beanie and to make sure his gift's wrap wasn't wrinkled or wet. It was lukewarm from the stay in his vest during the trip to the office, and for a split second Frank laughed at the absurdity of the situation – him waiting in front of a closed door with a present in hand, nervous like a teenager.

He gave the door a firm knock to warn Red there was someone, if the guy hadn't picked up on him already. He didn't want a ninja kick coming at him as soon as he entered, so politeness was the way to go.

The computer voice stopped and there was the creaking of another door and footsteps coming closer, a shadow barely visible behind the tinted glass, until the handle moved under Frank's hands.

"Frank?" Red asked, and his surprise was evident. Funnily enough, he hadn't sensed Frank coming, too absorbed in legal jargon. He was wearing a shirt and a vest but no tie, and obviously, his red glasses.

"What are you doing here?" Red hissed as he pulled Frank inside and shut the door behind them. "Did anyone see you?"

"Relax Red, I know the drill."

" _Don't_ call me like _that_ ," the man snarled, tilting his head like an owl to check if Frank was right.

"You didn't answer me," Red said when he was satisfied with what he heard, "why are you here?"

"'Tis for you," Frank simply stated as he handed his gift to Red, shoving it into his hands. He had prepared a few generic sentences to express his gratitude, but there was a reason he was never the one doing speeches back when he was with the Marines. All words left his head as soon as Red had closed the door, and it felt too weird to say just a generic platitude. They were past that. They knew too much of each other, in a way.

"What is it?" Red asked, turning the package and feeling the wrapping with his fingers.

"Christmas. Thank you for-" Frank wiggled his fingers before his brain informed him it was useless with the guy in front of him, that he needed to use his words for once, "for the gloves."

"Wait a minute. You bought me a gift? Is that what it is?"

There was puzzlement in Red's voice, and a bit of something else, something that added tremors to his voice.

"Yeah."

Red walked to another room and went to search for something on a messy desk covered with folders and white dotted sheets. His own part of the office, then. He opened the wrapping with great care, feeling the tape with his fingers and slicing it with a paper cutter. Then, with childish wonder on his face, he grabbed what was inside and lifted it in front of him.

"It's warm. And it smells like you."

"It's, huh..." Frank started, but Red shushed him, wonder shifting to concentration, eyebrows furrowed.

"It's silk", he declared, and Frank whispered a "yes", curious to see if Red was going to guess properly. He had chosen silk because back at the shop, the owners had told him it was a nice fabric that wouldn't clash with an official attire like a lawyer's suit, and it also was durable and warm.

"How did you know?" Red murmured so low Frank wasn't sure the question was for him or if Red was talking to himself. He stayed silent, enthralled with the sight of Red turning around his gift and feeling it with every square inch of his hands, the tip of his fingers following its edges.

"Is it a scarf?"

"Bingo," Frank let out, trying his best to hide the inconvenient worry that was creeping on him.

"You bought me a silk scarf? Really? I'm not dreaming?"

"Nah, not a dream. You were running around in your pyjamas with your neck exposed, y'know. Can't let the Devil catch a cold."

"You looked at my neck, Frank?" Red teased, and _oh_ , he was grinning. He was grinning, and he opened the first button of his shirt, and Frank was about to ask _the fuck you think you're doing_ , but he stopped there and tied the scarf around his neck, deliberately slow, the fabric sliding on his skin, and yeah, _the fuck Red's thinking?_

"You took care of my hands," Frank answered with a shrug, mentally fighting to keep his heartbeat in check. He didn't want to be betrayed like that, it was too easy for Red. Super senses were cheating.

"Do the gloves fit?"

"Yeah. Perfectly."

"Oh. Well, that's good to hear."

Red retreated to the corner of the room to dump the wrapping in his trash bin, and Frank followed instinctively with a few steps, leaning in the door frame to get a better look at Red with his brand new scarf. It was dapple grey, dark enough not to be too visible on a black suit, yet still light enough to look good. At least, that's what the owners had told Frank. He'd have picked a more visible colour, like the same red the glasses were, but that would have been too conspicuous with the Devil's attire.

Red walked back to him, but he stopped right in front of Frank, the same shit-eating grin back on his face.

"Did you walk into this room?" he asked innocently, but there was something not so innocent hiding in his voice. He looked like a predator ready to jump on his prey, and Frank didn't like feeling like a prey.

"I, uh, yeah."

And then it went down too fast for Frank to process it properly. Red untied the scarf from around his own neck, swiftly circled Frank's, _the silk was so soft_ , pulled to him with an unexpected amount of strength, and their mouth just _crashed_ together, teeth bruising lips. Frank reacted instinctively, kissing back the best he could, because he didn't know where the hell this was coming from, but a kiss with the Devil wasn't so bad a price to pay. Quite the opposite, actually.

They broke apart, Red's hands landing on Frank's chest, still holding the scarf, and there was uncertainty in his stance and the way he tilted his head to Frank.

"What's that for?" Frank asked, trying to act natural even though there was something going on in his brain that he couldn't explain. Fireworks, maybe? Pleasant fireworks.

In answer, Red lifted a finger and pointed upward, above Frank's head. There, hanging in the shadows, was a branch of mistletoe, its red berries gleaming with the light coming from outside through the shutters.

_Oh_. Mistletoe, huh? That's what it was?

All those times Red had hovered next to him, his fingers brushing Frank's accidentally when they were near each other,

the way he always checked on Frank after a fight,

his constant banter,

the coffee he'd bring on cold nights,

the perfect measurements for the gloves,

the Cheshire's grin,

all this flashed in front of Frank's eyes, and he grunted.

Mistletoe? Fuck no.

To prove his point, he tiptoed and felt Red letting go of the scarf to allow him to reach higher, until his fingers brushed the branch and managed to pull it off its hook. With very deliberate movements, aware that he had every bit of Red's attention, he put the branch on the desk, on top of a closed binder, and he walked back in front of Red, daring him. For once, he didn't want to take the first step. He had brought war to a lot of people, unleashed his wrath right in front of them. He wouldn't bear to force something on Red. Especially not Red, and especially not something _like this_.

So he waited. For what felt like an eternity, he stayed unmoving, the scarf as light as a feather around his neck, the gloves a comforting warmth around his hands, until Red's hand tentatively rose, from Frank's hips to his ribs to his collarbone to his neck, brushing over the silk and over Frank's skin. They stayed there for a moment, Red's mouth slightly open, his breath shallow and fast. Frank wondered what he was feeling, what he was listening to, asking a silent question, trying to gather as much evidence as possible before making a move.

_The Devil was bolder when he fought than when he kissed_ , Frank thought for himself, his lips curving into the slightest of smiles.

Finally, Red tiptoed and closed the distance between them one more time, his fingers curling around Frank's neck, reaching for his hair, pulling closer, tighter, and Frank let his arms circle Red's waist, revelling in the warmth of his mouth and the teasing of his tongue.

Mistletoe? Hell no.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you have a moment and enjoyed your reading, feel free let me know your thoughts in the comments! Thank you~
> 
> And go show love to [DichotomyStudios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DichotomyStudios)!


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